There is a moment, after the cold towel and before the gentleman rises from the chair, when the barber asks — or does not ask — whether a finishing scent is preferred. The answer to this question reveals more about a man than most things he might say in the same hour.
A gentleman who does not wear a scent at all is making a statement of restraint, and is usually correct. A gentleman who wears the same scent for thirty years is making a statement of identity, and is more correct still. A gentleman who changes his scent with the season, or with the company he keeps, is performing — and is the least serious of the three.
The English tradition favours the older houses. Penhaligon’s English Fern (1910) for the morning. Trumper’s Eucris (1912) for the afternoon. Floris No. 89 (1951) for the evening. These are not fragrances. They are calling cards.
The Private Room keeps a small selection — neither comprehensive nor advertised — for the use of guests who arrive without their own. The cabinet contains six bottles, all English, all manufactured before 1960. The applicator is a glass dropper. No more than two drops are necessary; a third confirms one is unaccustomed to the practice.
A gentleman’s scent should arrive ten seconds after he does, and depart ten seconds before he does. Anything more is announcement. Anything less is omission.
The right amount is recognised by the right people.
A quiet appointment is reserved on request. Write to us.
